“I’m glad,” she said, relief clear in her tone. “I’d hate to work for Gabriel. He color-codes his emails by urgency.”
“A man after my own heart,” he said dryly, though his lips twitched.
“Terrifying,” she said, but her eyes sparkled. She reached across the counter, her fingers finding his with unerring precision. “I’m glad I get to stay where I belong.”
“With me,” he said, the words both statement and question.
“With you,” she confirmed.
The rest of breakfast passed in a haze of plans and contingencies—habit for him, necessity for her. By the time they stepped into the elevator that would carry them to the garage, a strange calm had settled over him. Whatever happened at Oath Capital today, they would face it together.
The drive to the office passed in silence, each lost in their own thoughts as Manhattan streamed past the windows. When they pulled into the executive parking garage, he cut the engine but made no move to exit the car.
“Are you having second thoughts?” she asked.
“No,” he said, struck by how true that was. He searched for the words, unusual for someone who usually had them ready. “Centering myself.”
She said nothing, responding with a single nod. “That seems to be our specialty lately.”
The elevator ride felt longer than usual, the air between them charged with anticipation. When the doors slid open, revealing the expansive glass and chrome of Oath Capital, he did what he had never done before.
He reached for her hand.
The gesture was small—fingers intertwined, palms pressed—but its significance was not lost on either of them. Or he noted with a trace of grim irony, on the wide-eyed receptionist who nearly dropped her phone at the sight.
“Let the games begin,” she murmured, her grip tightening before she stepped forward with the confidence that had first caught his attention all those months ago.
They moved through the office together, aware of the ripple effect their arrival created. Conversations halted mid-sentence. Heads turned. Eyes widened. The whispers followed, low and immediate, trailing in their wake.
“Devney!” Julia from Accounting stood abruptly from her desk, her expression shifting from shock to intrigue, then to sudden understanding that widened her eyes as her gaze dropped to their joined hands. “You’re back!”
“I am,” she confirmed, her voice level despite the tremor he felt through their connected palms.
“And you’re…” Julia’s eyes widened, darting between them with unabashed interest.
“Together,” he said, his tone firm enough to discourage further questions but not harsh enough to silence them.
The single word sent a fresh wave of whispers rippling through the office. He felt Devney’s posture straighten beside him, her chin lifting in that familiar, stubborn way.
“I believe you all have work to do,” he reminded the gathered employees, though without the cutting edge his voice usually carried in such moments. “The quarterly reports won’t complete themselves.”
The office returned to work, though whispers of speculation continued. He led her to her desk, which had remained untouched since her departure—the computer and phone waiting in silence.
She paused, her fingers brushing the spot where the sunflower ring had rested—no longer on her hand, but vivid in her mind.
“I half-expected someone else to be sitting here by now,” she murmured.
He shook his head, amusement crossing his face. “No one would dare.”
“Because you told them not to?” she asked.
“Because I didn’t need to.”
She turned to look at him.
He met her gaze without flinching. “You’re irreplaceable.”
The words landed between them—simple, direct, and far more vulnerable than anything he’d said the week before. And she felt it, to her bones.
